


With Fervent Heat

by liggytheauthoress



Series: Melt the Elements 'Verse [1]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 19:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8908456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liggytheauthoress/pseuds/liggytheauthoress
Summary: "He can count on one hand the number of times he’s used his bending in the twenty years it’s been since his ma died. He learned fairly quickly that it was easier just to pretend he wasn’t a bender, so he taught himself how to fight with guns and lead instead of smoke and sparks."
In which six of the seven are benders and Faraday really, really needs a hug.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I won't lie, I'm honestly not sure what this is. It started out as a silly little plot bunny and then just...mutated. But I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope at least one person enjoys reading it.
> 
> Dedicated to dutchydoescoke, who thoroughly encouraged and beta'd this madness and who made the utterly amazing artwork for it.

Faraday was eight years old the first time someone told him he was a monster.

His ma had always told him, “Never bend where someone might see you do it, Josh,” but she’d always been vague as to why. And for eight years, Faraday had dutifully obeyed her, never questioning the rule, even though he constantly saw their landlord’s kids showing off their earthbending in the middle of the street, smashing rocks without touching them or trying to knock each other off balance by shifting and manipulating the ground. Yeah, he was jealous, yeah, he thought it was unfair, but he still listened, only using his abilities for little things like keeping the candles in their room lit.

And then one day he’d been roughhousing with a couple of other boys, including the landlord’s sons, and one of them had shoved him and called his ma a whore.

Barely using his gift in the past turned out to be a good thing, because it meant the jet of angry flame Faraday sent bursting out of his palm fizzled out after only a moment or two, before it could hurt its target - but the damage was still done. Even as he staggered back, taking in the horrified expressions on the other boys’ faces, realizing what he just did, the oldest son was racing inside shouting for his father.

“This is a civilized house,” the man had said darkly as he ordered them to pack their things. He glared at where Faraday was clinging to his ma's skirts. “We don’t want monsters like that mixing with good, decent people.”

And that was when Ma’s rule made sense. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him showing off or accidentally hurting someone.

She just didn’t want anyone to know her son was a monster.

* * *

He can count on one hand the number of times he’s used his bending in the twenty years it’s been since his ma died. He learned fairly quickly that it was easier just to pretend he wasn’t a bender, so he taught himself how to fight with guns and lead instead of smoke and sparks. The last time he’d bent had been during a bar fight in Nevada, when he was backed into a corner, out of ammo. It had been purely self-defense, when he lashed out - he hadn’t even meant to hit anyone, just wanted to scare them - but he’d lost control, and the guilt that hit him when he saw the guy fall to the ground clutching what used to be his face was almost unbearable.

Faraday had skipped town right after, but there had been a small part of him that wanted to stay and face the punishment he knew he deserved.

He hasn’t produced so much as a spark since, but right now, with the backwoods idiots known as the Babbington brothers pointing their guns at his head, he’s sorely tempted to break that streak.

“Gentlemen, allow me a moment to show you something quite miraculous,” Faraday says carefully, pulling his cards from his pocket. He mastered them a long time ago, using them to distract himself when the urge to bend grew particularly strong, and he hopes they’ll be enough to get him out of this particular situation.

The cards move between his fingers like his element would, and he can almost ignore the ever-present itching feeling in his palms.

And then Earl Babbington knocks them violently out of his hands, and Faraday feels his control slip just a little more.

“You didn’t let me finish.” There’s an edge in his voice that’s rarely there, one that makes the brothers take half a step back, and the itch in his palms grows into a low burning feeling even as he produces the King of Hearts with a self-satisfied flourish.

He could burn them both to a crisp right now, before they even knew what was happening.

He could.

But he doesn’t.

He puts a bullet in Dicky’s head and shoots Earl’s ear off instead.

* * *

Truth be told, he’s not overly thrilled to be roped into Sam Chisolm’s suicide mission, but he’s not about to part ways with his horse. Besides, it might be a nice change, riding with people who aren’t completely pissed off at him for whatever reason. Sam seems a decent enough man, at least, and Faraday strikes up a conversation almost as soon as they’re out of Amador City.

“You a bender?” he asks, not bothering to be tactful about it. He had Sam pegged as one from the moment the older man stepped into the saloon, and Faraday can’t help it, he’s curious.

Sam huffs in amusement. “You always start conversations like that?”

Faraday shrugs. “I’m an inquisitive soul.”

“Earthbender,” and Faraday’s not surprised in the least. He’s learned how to spot other types of benders over the years - mostly so he can avoid them - and Sam might as well have his element written all over him. “You?”

“Hell no.” The lie rolls off Faraday’s tongue easily, as it should; it’s one he’s been telling for decades. “But I like to think I make up for it with my charm and good looks.”

Sam chuckles. “Not sure how well charm and good looks will serve you where we’re going.” He nods at Faraday’s guns. “I assume you know how to use those.”

“I can hit the broad side of a barn all right.”

“Well, it’s good to know that we’re protected, should we come across any barns who mean us harm.”

Faraday decides he likes Sam Chisolm.

* * *

He’s surprised to discover he likes Goodnight Robicheaux as well. Maybe it’s because the man isn’t a bender at all - Faraday feels an odd kinship there, even if his circumstances aren’t exactly the same.

He’s not sure if he likes Billy or is mildly terrified by him - it’s hard not to be intimidated by someone you just saw simultaneously stab a man at twenty paces and deflect that man’s bullet with just a flick of the wrist - but he suspects it’s a mix of the two. Besides, Billy is the first airbender Faraday’s ever met who’s killed a man, and that right there is a novelty in and of itself.

Faraday, of course, expresses his interest the only way he knows how: by being a smartass.

“Warrant for what? Killing a man with a hairpin?”

Goody laughs, even if Billy doesn’t, so Faraday counts that as at least half a win. When Billy replies with a totally deadpan, “That is funny,” Faraday grins, because he honestly can’t remember the last time he had a positive interaction like this - with more than one person, no less.

When he suggests they do a half day of drinking before leaving to meet up with Sam and Goody responds with an amused, “I like you,” Faraday feels almost content. Yeah, there’s a voice at the back of his head reminding him that if any of these men knew what he was, they wouldn’t be sitting here laughing with him like this, but for now he ignores it.

After all these years, he’s learned to take what he can get, and if what he can get right now is an afternoon of booze and good company, he’s not about to complain.

* * *

He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or just his natural tendency to annoy people, but the, “Oh, good, we got a Mexican,” slips out before Faraday can help himself. To the other man’s credit, he looks like he’s torn between being irritated or just amused.

When Sam mentions that the Mexican - Vasquez - is a waterbender, Faraday has to bite his tongue to keep from snorting.

He always has been a fan of irony.

“Well that’s a stroke of luck. If we can make it rain hard enough on Bogue maybe he’ll catch his death of cold and go home.”

“And what about you, _güero_?” Vasquez asks, looking him up and down with an appraising look on his face. “Just what are you bringing to this fight, huh?”

Faraday takes a pull of his whiskey and shrugs. “ _I_ am the world’s greatest lover,” he says, utterly straight-faced.

Vasquez stares at him for a few seconds before bursting into low laughter. Goodnight and Sam are both watching the interaction with amusement, and Billy is impossible to read but Faraday swears he sees the other man’s lips quirk up, just for a moment. They’re laughing _with_ him, not at him, Faraday realizes. He likes the feeling.

“I hope your hands are as good with those guns as they are with other things, then,” Vasquez remarks.

“If you need a demonstration, let me know.”

* * *

Faraday isn’t overly fond of earthbenders, but he’s a little disappointed when Horne turns Sam down. They’ve all heard the stories about what he’s capable of, how he’s mastered every kind of specialized bending there is - he’s one of only a handful of metalbenders left in the country. Horne would have been handy to have against Bogue.

When they set up camp in the canyon that night, Faraday watches Sam and Billy try to build up a proper campfire, manipulating the terrain and the wind to create the best conditions possible, but it’s still a pitiful thing.

“Shame we don’t have a firebender for this,” Sam says, and Faraday freezes, because there’s no way Sam can possibly know. But Sam chuckles, and Faraday realizes it was just a joke.

One that not everyone in the group finds funny. Vasquez scoffs, spitting at the ground before muttering, “ _Maldito maestros fuego._ They wouldn’t lift a finger to help someone.”

“The only ones I’ve ever seen work for Bogue,” Teddy says. “They all really as bad as that?”

“As far as I’m concerned, they are.” A dark look passes over Vasquez’s face, and it reminds Faraday of the expression the landlord had worn when he tossed him and his ma out of the boarding house. “When I was a boy, bandits came to my village and set fire to half the houses. There were two firebenders in the town and they did _nothing_ to help.” He flicks his cigar into the fire and glares at the flames. “The only good firebender is a dead one.”

Faraday shifts in his spot, hunching in on himself a little and hoping he doesn’t look as uncomfortable as he feels. He can’t blame Vasquez for the sentiment; hell, he’s spent more time than he’s willing to admit feeling the same way.

Goodnight looks thoughtful as he takes a drag from his cigarette. “It seems a bit harsh,” he says slowly, blowing the smoke out in a long, thing tendril, “to judge the character of many based on the actions of a few.” He looks around the group solemnly. “‘Prejudices are the chains forged by ignorance to keep men apart.’”

It occurs to Faraday that if anyone in their little group is likely to accept him for what he really is, it’s Goodnight. Sam, too. If a Confederate soldier and a black man can become such good friends, doesn’t that mean someone like him has a shot?

He looks at Vasquez’s grim scowl, the hatred so clearly visible in the man’s eyes, and decides it isn’t worth finding out.

“Nah, Vasquez is right,” he says, trying not to cringe when all eyes turn to him. “Firebenders are damn selfish bastards. Once knew a man who straight up called them monsters, and let me tell you, he wasn’t far off.”

Faraday isn’t sure what’s worse: the grateful look on Vasquez’s face or the fact that he almost believes his own words.

The conversation shifts and dies down, and Faraday takes the opportunity to con Teddy out of his whiskey. His own supply ran out earlier, and he could use some right now. It’s not that he likes the taste of alcohol - under normal circumstances he could probably go without - but the warmth he feels in his chest when he’s drinking is the only thing that’s ever come close to what bending used to feel like.

And if the booze helps him forget about the fact that most of the men around him would rather see him dead, so much the better.

* * *

Horne and Red Harvest’s addition to the group is unexpected, to say the very least. There’s a certain irony in both of them being earthbenders, considering Horne’s reputation, and Faraday can’t help finding it amusing.

Nobody brings up last night’s conversation, for which he’s incredibly grateful. It’s easier for him to ignore what he is when no one around him is talking about it.

He ends up riding next to Vasquez for a while. Despite their elements being polar opposites, Faraday can’t help being drawn to the man. Maybe it’s because their senses of humor seem to be so compatible, or maybe Faraday’s just glutton for punishment, he isn’t sure.

He glances over his shoulder at the riders behind them and can’t help remarking, “If I were Red, I don’t think I’d be ridin’ with my back to Horne like that.”

Vasquez snorts. “You expecting dissension in the ranks so soon, _güero?_ ”

“No, but I don’t particularly expect everyone to get along thick as thieves, either.”

“Even if the thieves are united under a single cause?” Vasquez flashes him a cheeky grin. “You never heard the expression ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’”

Faraday wants to joke that friends aren’t exactly something he’s used to having, but frankly he’s not drunk enough to get quite that personal, even ostensibly in jest. So he just grins back and says, “Let’s hope they’ve heard that expression too.”

* * *

They stop about a mile outside Rose Creek so Sam and Emma can confer. Emma confirms that several of the deputies in town are fire or earth benders. “Most of them just rely on their bending in a fight, they’ll probably be unarmed,” she tells them.

“If they’re smart, they’ll be used as distractions. The gunmen should be our top priority.” Sam looks around at the group. “Horne, Vasquez, you keep an eye out for the others. We might not be able to fight fire with fire, but water should be good enough.”

Vasquez frowns at the map of Rose Creek that Emma has spread out on the ground. “I don’t like being so far from the river.”

“There are rain barrels in a few spots.” Teddy points out several places. “Should still be at least half full.”

“Works for me.” Vasquez runs a thumb over the handle of one of his guns and grins. “And fire’s not very good at stopping bullets, anyway.”

There’s a moment where Faraday almost says something, if only to reassure the others that there’s at least one person among them who stands an equal chance against the firebenders in town, but he decides against it. It’s not like his control over his element is all that spectacular, anyway.

If things look desperate, he’ll use it, but until then, he’s more than happy to maintain the illusion that he’s never bent in his life.

* * *

Fortunately, things don’t get desperate.

Sam’s right - Blackstones are pretty useless against any type of serious threat, even if some of them _are_ benders. There turn out to be six or seven earthbenders, but they’re no match Horne, who takes them down as easily as if he was swatting flies, dodging their attacks and countering with his own like it’s nothing.

Faraday sees him send a sharp column of earth shooting straight up into a man’s gut and cringes.

Vasquez is just as impressive, proving to be just as lethal with his element as he is with his guns. He switches from bullets to water seamlessly, like he’s been doing this all his life (which he probably has).

There’s a moment where he and Faraday are in the middle of the street, back to back and somehow effortlessly in sync, with Vasquez fending off the firebenders on one side and Faraday shooting down the regular Blackstones on the other. It’s like nothing Faraday’s ever experienced before and he almost lets himself wonder what it would be like to bend with Vasquez like this, fire and water.

He snaps back to reality when one of the firebenders tries to flank Vasquez and puts a bullet through the man’s skull. Vasquez tosses him a wild grin as they separate, clearly enjoying himself, and Faraday remembers that killing firebenders is probably a particular kind of fun for him.

He pushes the thought out of his brain and focuses on cleaning out the rest of the deputies.

When Goodnight freezes with the rifle in his hands, Faraday can’t quite bring himself to call him out on it. If the legendary Angel of Death really is just a legend, Faraday’s not in a position to judge. He’s spent most of his life pretending to be something he’s not.

Besides, judging by the look on Billy’s face, he’s pretty sure the airbender would stab him in the neck if he said anything.

He can’t resist ribbing at Vasquez, trying to one-up him even though they both know it’s bullshit. Vasquez scoffs good-naturedly, and Faraday’s response of, “You wanna try and tie it up?” comes out slightly more flirtatiously than he intended it to.

“Say when, _güero._ ” Vasquez’s face is solemn, but there’s a slight undercurrent of amusement in his voice that Faraday can’t help detecting. They stare each other down, daring the other to break a smile first, until Sam draws their attention to the sheriff cowering underneath the closest porch.

Faraday’s pretty sure Vasquez would have broken first.

* * *

Dinner is, for lack of a better word, nice. Faraday’s not used to taking meals like this, surrounded by people he knows and, more or less, trusts. The jokes and banter fly fast and furious and Faraday revels in it.

Admittedly, he does go after Vasquez more than he does the others, but Vasquez gives as good as he gets, and they fall into the same rhythm Faraday felt when they were fighting back to back that afternoon.

Later, when they’re all retiring to their separate rooms for the night, Vasquez nudges him with his elbow and says, “I guess you’re good with those guns after all.”

Faraday grins and holds up his hands. “Good with these, too. Offer for a demonstration still stands.”

Vasquez rolls his eyes. “Sleep well, _güero,_ ” he says in a tone that could almost be considered affectionate before disappearing into his room and closing the door.

It’s the first night in a long time where Faraday’s gone to bed without needing whiskey to help him sleep.

* * *

Getting the good people of Rose Creek into fighting shape proves to be just about as easy as Faraday expected it to be. Okay, he knows they’re farmers, not fighters, but most of the farmers he’d met in the past had at least been able to fire a rifle without falling on their ass.

By noon, he’s irritated and far too sober for his tastes, which is probably why he goads Goodnight in an attempt to call the man’s possible bluff. It’s unfair of him, he knows that, but when his mood sours, the urge to bend gets stronger, and he’ll take any distraction he can get, even if it does mean Billy will probably slit his throat for it.

Later on, when they’re all standing atop the ridge overlooking the town they somehow have to protect and Goodnight calls it a box of death, Horne comments with, “So melt the elements, with fervent heat,” and it takes most of Faraday’s self-control not to laugh.

The story he tells about the man who fell off a building is complete horseshit, but he’s always felt like it was an apt metaphor for how he lives his life. It’s how he feels right now - he knows how precarious his good standing with these men is, but for the moment, they consider him an equal, and he’ll take that for what it’s worth.

So far, so good.

And if he sounds a little _too_ excited when they raid the mine and find an entire shack of dynamite, nobody seems to notice.

* * *

The next few days rush by in a maelstrom of planning and preparation, and despite the gravity of what’s coming, Faraday enjoys it. He’s never felt comfortable around people, not until now, and the sense of camaraderie that’s built up between the seven of them is, for lack of a better word, intoxicating. The experience of being accepted, being trusted, is a new one for him, and as time goes on he feels his carefully constructed walls slowly starting to lower.

Especially around Vasquez. Faraday’s not sure if the way they keep gravitating towards each other is intentional or not, but they do, and he likes it. It’s a comfortable dynamic, the constant teasing and needling (and, Faraday won’t lie, flirting).

One night, they end up together in the saloon with Goodnight, Billy, and Horne, all of them more than a little drunk, laughing until their sides hurt. They lose track of time, but eventually Horne excuses himself for the night, and then Goodnight and Billy (together, as always, and Faraday has absolutely no doubts about what _they_ plan to do once they get back to their room), until it’s just him and Vasquez.

Faraday challenges him to a friendly game of cards, promising to go easy on him.

“You think I need you to go easy on me?” Vasquez arches an eyebrow. “I think I take offense at that.”

“Just tryin’ to be a gentleman, but if you’re gonna be so ungrateful…”

“ _Güero,_ if you were truly a gentleman, I would not enjoy your company nearly as much.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just because he’s talking to the man he trusted enough to watch his back, that first day in Rose Creek, but Faraday responds with, “Well, that makes you the first.”

He meant for it to sound light-hearted, the same as all their other banter, but as soon as the words leave his mouth he realizes how vulnerable he just sounded. Vasquez apparently noticed too, because he sobers up some, brow furrowing. “I find that very hard to believe.”

Faraday shrugs, wondering if he can backtrack on this or if it’s too late for that. “I’m a bit of an acquired taste,” he says, avoiding Vasquez’s eyes in favor of shuffling his cards back and forth. “Just so happens that not too many folks are willing to stick around long enough to acquire it.”

He feels Vasquez poke at his ankle with his foot, and when he looks up the other man is looking at him with an expression that can only be described as fond. It stirs up a warm sensation in Faraday’s chest that has nothing to do with alcohol or his element.

“If that’s the case, then it’s their misfortune, not yours, _güero_.”

There’s nothing sarcastic or teasing about the way Vasquez says it. The words are earnest - Faraday would even go so far as to call them heartfelt - and the look in Vasquez’s eyes matches. Any witty response Faraday might have had dies in his throat, and all he can do is cock a small, lopsided smile. “I will never admit to saying this, but...thanks.” He kicks Vasquez’s shin lightly. “Even if it does mean you have questionable taste in drinking partners.”

Vasquez snickers, kicking back, and the mood goes back to normal as he finally gives in and agrees to a game. But something has shifted between them, Faraday can feel it. That rare moment of letting his guard down sparked something he can’t quite identify.

He’s not sure where it will lead, but he thinks he’ll enjoy finding out.

* * *

It all goes to hell the next day.

Red Harvest comes galloping into town in the late morning, and Faraday can’t understand a word he says but he can tell by his face that it’s not good. Sam confirms it, turning around and saying, “He says Bogue will be here at dawn.”

There’s a ripple of concerned murmuring throughout the townsfolk, and Faraday meanders over to Vasquez as Sam does his best to calm everyone. They’re all scared, and frankly, Faraday can’t blame them.

He exhales harshly through his nose, bumping shoulders with Vasquez. “Guess we all knew this was comin’. Maybe you’ll get a chance to tie things up tomorrow.”

Vasquez elbows him. “You just concentrate on not getting shot, _cabrón_.”

Faraday puts a hand to his chest. “Why, Vas, a person might almost think you cared.”

The waterbender rolls his eyes. “Maybe I just want as many guns on our side as possible.”

They grin at each other then, because they know they’re both full of shit, and it’s like an unspoken promise.

_I’ll have your back tomorrow if you have mine._

* * *

Goodnight jumping ship is like a slap in the face for them. Faraday and the others, save Billy, watch Sam watch him leave, and Faraday wonders if this is the moment where the group falls apart. He finds that he hates the possibility. Somehow, at some point, he started thinking of these assholes as friends.

Family, almost.

He doesn’t want to lose that anytime soon.

They all look away when Sam turns around, even though they know he knows they were watching. The atmosphere is tense, awkward, and Sam looks like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself.

“Anybody else want to leave, now’s the time.”

It’s completely involuntary, the way Faraday turns to look at Vasquez, as if to ask, _Are you gonna leave?_ And when Vasquez answers Sam, he does it while looking Faraday straight in the eye. “I have nowhere else to go, so, I’m in.”

_No, I won’t leave_.

The others are of like mind, it seems, but somehow that does little to soothe Faraday’s nerves. He’s been trying to ignore what’s coming tomorrow, and now that it’s looming over him he can’t focus on anything else. The familiar itching in his palms, the ache in his chest, is back, fueled by his agitation, and he knows neither whiskey nor his cards will make them go away.

Sam disappears into the church after that, and Faraday hears the others file into the saloon behind him, but he doesn’t follow. He just steps off the porch and lets his feet carry them where they will, which turns out to be the stables.

Wild Jack nickers in greeting as Faraday stops outside his stall and reaches in to stroke the horse’s mane. It occurs to him that _he_ could leave, right here and now. Go back to drinking alone in crummy saloons and hustling unsuspecting men at poker.

But he doesn’t want to.

For what might very well be the first time in his life, Faraday feels like he has an actual purpose. Like he can actually help accomplish something good, in spite of what he is, what he’s done. Sure, he’s a firebender, but he’s also capable of being a decent man. And if Sam and Horne and Vasquez and the others see some good in him, maybe there’s hope for him yet.

He reaches for a cigarette and cusses when he realizes he left his matches on a table in the saloon. He doesn’t feel like going in just yet, wants a few more minutes alone to sort out his thoughts, but damn he wants to smoke.

There’s no one around. And that damn itching in his palms just won’t go away…

Sighing, Faraday puts the cigarette to his mouth and lifts his hand up, snapping his fingers and conjuring up a small flame, just enough to light it.

“ _Qué carajo?_ ”

Faraday jerks around, dropping the cigarette and extinguishing the flame at his fingertips immediately. His gut churns violently when he sees Vasquez standing in the doorway, staring at him with an expression that can only be described as horror.

Any hopes Faraday may have had about the others accepting him for what he is vanish when he sees that face.

“Fuck, Vas…”

He trails off after that, because what the hell is he supposed to say?

The silence stretches between them, vast and suffocating, for a long, long time. Faraday feels like a cornered animal, and the fact that he can’t read a single one of the emotions going across Vasquez’s face is the worst part. He racks his brain for something, anything - a joke, an explanation, _something_ to salvage this.

Before he can think of anything, Vasquez just turns and walks out.

Faraday stares at the empty doorway for a moment before running a hand over his eyes. “ _Shit_.”

* * *

It takes him a while, but eventually he works up the nerve to go back to the saloon. He hears the others talking in low voices, but it goes deathly quiet as soon as he comes through the door. Five pairs of eyes pin him to the spot and for a moment he debates just turning around and going back to the stable and riding out, but he can’t. Even if everyone here hates his guts, he made a promise, and he’s not going back on it.

But goddamn if it isn’t tempting.

Nobody says anything as Faraday glances from face to face. Sam’s brows are furrowed and he’s frowning a bit, but he looks more or less calm. Billy seems to have sobered up pretty damn fast, and the way he’s watching Faraday reminds him of a cat stalking its prey. Horne looks more intrigued then anything, and Red’s as unreadable as ever.

Vasquez is standing against the bar, not quite meeting his eyes and looking like he wants to shoot something.

Faraday suddenly feels more exhausted than he’s felt in a long time, and he figures fuck it, might as well get this over and done with so he can retreat to his room and drink himself to sleep.

“So,” he says, scuffing at the floor with his heel, “I get the feeling you fellas have something on your minds.”

“You’re a firebender,” Billy says.

And there it is, out in the open. No pussyfooting around it now. Faraday clears his throat and does his best to sound bored and indifferent as he answers, “That’s about the gist of it, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sam asks. His voice isn’t angry, but it’s disappointed, and somehow that’s worse. “That first day we met, you said you weren’t a bender. Why?”

Faraday exhales slowly. “Because it ain’t exactly something I’m proud of.”

“You lied to us,” and he _hates_ the betrayal in Vasquez’s tone, because he didn’t want this, he didn’t want to make them feel like they couldn’t trust him.

“And what good would telling the truth have done?” Faraday stares each one of them down in turn, except Vasquez, who still won’t look him in the face, damn him. “Would it have done anything except make things worse?”

“Damn, Faraday, we could have used it,” Sam says. “The day we got here, that first fight - if we’d known-”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, don’t act like this is about a missed opportunity. You all aren’t angry because of that, you’re angry because you’ve been living and working and riding with a lousy firebender this whole time and you didn’t even know it.” Faraday scoffs. “You’re angry because a firebender had the nerve to try and act like he was good and decent like the rest of you.”

“That’s not why-”

Faraday cuts Sam off. “You think I don’t know what I am? You think I’m under some kind of delusion that I’m better than all the other guys like me out there?” He can hear the emotion that’s seeped into his voice and he hates it, but he can’t do anything about that now, he can feel his edges cracking and splintering and he knows he’s barely holding himself together. “Because I don’t need you people to remind me that I’m a monster, okay? I’ve known that since I was eight years old!”

He feels Vasquez finally look at him, but he doesn’t return the gaze, doesn’t want to see whatever is in the waterbender’s eyes right now because he knows it will break him. He glares at the table in front of Sam instead and tries his damnedest to ignore the prickling feeling at the corners of his eyelids. “Yeah, I lied to you. Just like I’ve been lying to people since I was a kid, because as soon as they know you’re a firebender, they stop seeing you as a person.”

He remembers his landlord, telling him and his mother to get out. He remembers the landlord’s kids throwing rocks at him as they left, even though they’d known him for years. He remembers all the towns he had to skip out of as soon as they found out just what he was, before anyone could decide the world needed one less firebender in it.

“I lied to you because I was stupid enough to think that maybe I had a shot here. That maybe this was my chance to prove I’m not just a monster. Maybe even that I’d found people who’d be willing to ignore what I am, because they’ve gotten to know me and trust me.” Faraday swallows hard, digging his nails into his palm. “But I guess all that’s off the table now.”

The others are all completely silent as he takes a couple of deep breaths, willing himself not to break down until he’s alone. Well, more alone.

“I still aim to fight tomorrow. I want to help these people as much as you do. I know it’s not gonna change anything, and I know if I live through this, you’re all gonna go on hating me as much as you do right now.” He squares his shoulders and clenches his jaw in a feeble attempt to hang onto what’s left of his pride. “But trust me. None of you is ever gonna hate me as much as I do.”

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves them all to renounce him in peace.

* * *

When he gets back to his room he realizes he’s out of whiskey. He curses and hurls the empty bottle at the wall, watching it shatter without feeling any type of satisfaction. The throw drains the last of his energy, and he sinks onto his bed and buries his face in his hands with a sigh.

It’s his own damn fault, really. He got careless. He got comfortable. He’d fallen into the trap of believing anyone could accept him for what he really was and was somehow still surprised that it had sprang shut on him.

There’s a soft but resolute knock on his door, and he groans inwardly. He’s in no mood to talk to anybody else tonight. “Who is it?”

“It’s Sam. I’d like to talk to you.”

“Pretty sure we said everything there was to say,” Faraday remarks, making no move towards the door.

“Well, we didn’t. And I’d rather not have this conversation through the door, if you don’t mind.”

“I just sat down. You want to come in, you open the door.”

There’s a short pause during which he thinks he lucked out and Sam’s given up, but then the rusty metal bolt on the inside of his door starts to slide open.

Apparently Horne isn’t the only metalbender in their little group.

Faraday knows how childish he probably looks when Sam comes in: slumped on his bed, arms folded, chin jutting upwards with a not-quite pout on his face. “Did you come here to ask me to leave?” he asks, because that’s the only reason he can think of for Sam being here.

Sam cocks his head. “I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. I’m here because I feel you’re owed an apology, at the very least.”

...well, that’s not what Faraday was expecting.

His confusion must show on his face, because Sam approaches him like he would a startled horse. Faraday watches Sam pull the stool from the corner and sit down facing him, face open and earnest, and he wonders just where the hell this is going.

“It would seem there’s been a slight misunderstanding between the two of us here,” Sam says slowly, pulling off his hat. “But I want you to know that you being a firebender doesn’t diminish my high opinion of you one bit, son.”

Either Faraday heard that wrong, or there’s some kind of double meaning being used here, because that is just about the last thing he thought Sam was going to say. He squints at the older man and forgoes tact in favor of simply asking, “What?”

Sam tosses his hat onto the bed and leans forward, clasping his hands. “I like to think I’m pretty good at reading people. And I definitely know a good man when I see one.” He looks Faraday in the eyes. “And I’m looking at one right now.”

Faraday honestly has no idea what he’s supposed to say to this - truth be told he’s still trying to figure out if he’s hearing it correctly at all - so Sam continues, “If you really were all those things you seem to think you are, you wouldn’t still be here ready to die to protect these people. You’d’ve been gone the first chance you got.” He reaches out and taps Faraday’s knee. “I know I can’t speak for the others, but as far as I’m concerned? You’re a damn good man, Josh Faraday.”

Slowly, very slowly, the words start to make sense in Faraday’s mind, even if he’s not sure he believes them. But he doesn’t think Sam would bullshit him about this, Sam’s been nothing but open and honest with all of them since the beginning. And he’s seen that Sam is willing to give people second chances, overlook the worst parts of them and their pasts - his friendship with Goodnight is evidence enough of that.

Maybe Faraday’s finally found someone who _is_ willing to ignore what he is.

“So...the whole bending thing…” Faraday squints at him. “It doesn’t bother you? I mean, you’re able to just...ignore that?”

“Why would I ignore it?” Sam asks, and Faraday’s heart sinks for a moment. “Your bending is part of who you are, Faraday. It doesn’t make you a good or a bad person. What you decide to do with it does. You think there aren’t any bad earthbenders? Water, airbenders? Because I’ve met plenty of all of those.” Sam’s hand comes up to grasp his shoulder. “Don’t think you have to deny that part of yourself in order to be good. Bending is a gift. It’s a strength. Embrace it.”

Faraday’s heard a lot of things said about his bending over the years. His mother told him to hide it. A lot of other people told him it made him inhuman.

Nobody has ever, in all his thirty-one years, told him it was something to be proud of.

Faraday prides himself on being completely in control of his emotions, but right then, in that little hotel room in Rose Creek, the night before he’ll very probably die, he breaks down crying in front of the first man to totally accept him for who and what he is.

* * *

He’s not sure how long he and Sam just sit there, but he knows it’s a good couple hours, at least. Eventually, Sam stands, tells him to get some sleep. Faraday stops him in the doorway. “Look, if the others still have a problem with me-”

“Then they’ve got a problem with me,” Sam says matter-of-factly. “Did you want to talk to them about this too?”

Faraday remembers the look on Vasquez’s face, remembers just how fucking tired he is. “I think I’ll pass.” He attempts a small smile. “Besides, I need my beauty sleep.”

Sam huffs a quiet laugh. “I think that might be a lost cause.”

“Jealous, old man?”

“True beauty comes with age.” Sam claps him lightly on the shoulder, letting his hand linger for just a moment in a way that’s almost paternal. “Now get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

“You gonna take your own advice?” Faraday asks when he sees Sam walking in the opposite direction of his own room.

Sam turns and gives him an impassive look. “I will. After I have a little talk with the others.”

There’s something in the man’s tone that makes Faraday suddenly glad he’s not going to be on the receiving end of this particular talk.

He watches Sam disappear down the stairs and shuts the door, slumping against it, He knows he _should_ at least try to resolve things with the rest of the group - he might not get the chance after tomorrow - but right now all he wants to do is sleep.

If he lives through the storm that’s coming, he’ll give it a try.

And if he doesn’t, he supposes it doesn’t matter much either way.

* * *

Faraday intentionally avoids the others in the morning, refusing to even make eye contact with Billy when they pass in the hall. He heads out to his spot earlier than he needs to, lighting up his next-to-last cigarette in the hopes it will quiet his nerves a little.

When he hears the church bell toll, he takes a deep breath, flexing his hands. The itching in his palms is back, but for the first time ever, he welcomes it. He’s still not entirely sure he buys into what Sam said last night, but if he can use his bending to protect these people, he’s going to.

The thundering sound of hooves reaches his ears, and he knows it’s time.

* * *

He hears the twin explosions and knows the first wave has reached the pinwheels. He waits until he feels his timing his right and then leaps out from behind his cover, shooting down the first men he sees. There’s dust everywhere, but when he looks over he can just make out the figure of Horne standing alone in the field, and he watches Horne raise his hands and send an entire row of earth columns shooting forward and tearing into the oncoming Blackstones.

Faraday grins and keeps running.

* * *

Setting off the dynamite gives him a rush he’s never felt before, and when he sees one of the men attempting to stagger away from the explosion, he doesn’t even have to think about it before he sends a burst of flame shooting from his palm.

It hits the man dead on.

* * *

He catches sight of Billy shooting a volley of air blades into the fight, just as deadly as the knives he carries. One of them decapitates a man at the neck and Faraday makes a mental note to never, _ever_ piss off Billy Rocks.

Vasquez’s voice carries over the commotion, shouting from them to get to the cover of the church, and Faraday starts to head over that way, stopping to shoot a couple more men as he goes. Billy smacks him on the back and he hears Vasquez telling him to hurry - and there’s that nickname again, _güero,_ but before Faraday can try to process what that might mean he sees a Blackstone send a fireball hurtling towards the steeple, and he immediately stops dead in his tracks, focuses all his energy, and _pushes_.

The fire just barely licks the sides of the church before it goes flying back towards the Blackstone and envelopes him completely.

A second later there’s a searing pain in his gut and the breath is knocked out of him as he falls to his knees.

Son-of-a- _bitch_ he’s been shot.

He can still move, and as he staggers towards the church Vasquez suddenly pushes past him, cursing at the top of his lungs in Spanish, and for a moment Faraday thinks the anger is directed at him.

Then he reaches cover and turns around and sees Vasquez advancing on the man who, presumably, shot him. The waterbender has pulled every drop from the nearest rain barrel and has two long whips of water streaming out from his hands, and he’s lashing the Blackstone relentlessly, hitting every vulnerable spot, not letting up for a moment, even though Faraday is pretty damn near certain the first hit was lethal.

The final hit Vasquez lands snaps the man’s neck and he falls neatly into an open coffin, and Faraday hopes he gets the chance to compliment Vasquez on his artistry, even if he’s not quite sure why the other man did it.

And then Vasquez is shouting, “Are you okay, _güero?_ ” and Faraday feels a rush of something in his chest so strong it’s all he can do to yell back, “So far, so good!”

* * *

When they come out of the church, Faraday pulls from the burning wagons, shaping the fire into a long stream and sending it surging into the line of Blackstones in front of him.

He so caught up in what he’s doing that he’s not sure if he’s imagining it, but he _swears_ he hears Vasquez bellowing, “Keep bending, _güerito!_ ”

* * *

Faraday knows the Gatling gun probably isn’t done after that first barrage, but he doesn’t care, he’s not about to let a single one of the children get hurt, so he ignores Goodnight and Billy yelling for him to stay down and bursts out of the church with his guns in hand.

The bullet wound in his side is throbbing, but he ignores it, snuffing out the flames at the storefront while Sam orders the women and kids out of the cellar.

He’s at least sixty percent certain he’s not making it out of this fight alive anyway.

* * *

That fucking gun is still going and Faraday knows that unless they do something about it, they’re all dead.

A plan starts to form in his head, and it’s completely insane and almost definitely going to get him killed, but it’s still a plan.

He tells Sam to cover him and makes a run for it.

* * *

As he gallops across the almost endless open space towards the Gatling gun, it dawns on him that even though there’s a bullet in his ribs and he’s riding towards certain death, he’s happier than he’s ever been in his life.

He’s not sure how many times he’s been shot, but Faraday is the most goddamn stubborn man he knows, and he pushes himself to his feet, staggering forward. The last bullet sends him to his knees for good, but he’s close enough now for this to work.

The men standing around the gun seem willing to indulge him in a last cigarette, and he resists the urge to smirk.

His hand is halfway to his pocket before he remembers his matches are still sitting in that damn saloon, and the urge to smirk becomes an urge to laugh, and if he wasn’t so woozy from the pain and blood loss he’s pretty sure he’d find something poetically ironic in this.

Faraday snaps his fingers weakly and lights his cigarette.

When he tosses the dynamite at the wagon, he can’t help grinning like an idiot, because if his last act on this earth is using his bending for this, he can’t think of a better way to go.

Then there’s a flash and a roar and everything goes dark.

* * *

He wakes up - which is not something he particularly expected to do ever again - to the feeling of gentle hands running over his chest and stomach and a low voice speaking rapidly in Spanish, just above his ear. At least he thinks it’s above his ear. There’s an oddly distant quality to it, so it could be coming clear across the valley, for all he knows.

“Don’t you fucking die on me, _güerito,_ ” the voice says, and Faraday decides he likes the sound of that even more than _güero_ before he slips back into oblivion.

* * *

When he wakes up again, he’s lying on something slightly more comfortable than the ground, and the searing pain in his torso has been replaced by a deep ache. He tries to move and the ache intensifies, and he quickly writes off that plan. No moving, then. Okay, he can manage that.

There’s a weight at his hip, and something warm and calloused wrapped around his hand, and he badly wants to go back to sleep but his curiosity gets the better of him, so he focuses all of his effort on making his eyes open.

It takes longer than he’d like, but eventually he can see just where the hell he is - and he’s pretty sure it’s not the afterlife, although if it is, all the preachers he’s ever heard were the ballsiest liars in the world, because it’s hardly the paradise they promised it would be. He doesn’t recall ever hearing Heaven described as the Rose Creek infirmary.

Making his eyes focus on anything is a challenge, and it takes several more seconds before Faraday’s gaze lands on the head of dark hair resting on the mattress beside his hip. The face beneath it is a blessedly familiar one, as is the hand clutching at his like its owner is afraid to let go, even in sleep.

If this _is_ the afterlife, Faraday can’t complain.

He smiles and uses the last of his energy to squeeze Vasquez’s hand, and right before he falls asleep again he’s pretty sure he sees the Mexican’s eyes flutter open.

* * *

The third time he wakes up, he finally feels somewhat lucid. And in pain. But somewhat lucid and in pain is better than dead, so he’ll take it.

This time, when he opens his eyes, Vasquez is gone and Sam is sitting in his place, although the earthbender is very pointedly not touching Faraday at all. Faraday misses the feeling of someone holding his hand. Not Sam, though. That would be weird.

Okay, so maybe he’s not as lucid as he thought.

He realizes he has no fucking idea how he got here or why he’s not scattered across the field in several small pieces, and he tries to ask Sam about it but all that comes out is an unintelligible grunt.

Sam looks down at him and grins. “About damn time you woke up, boy. It’s been almost four days - even Goody was up faster than you and he fell off a roof.”

Faraday coughs and makes a second attempt to talk, and he’s pleased when it works this time. “The fuck happened?”

“You mean after you tried very hard to blow yourself to kingdom come?”

“Yeah...after that.”

“All I know is that when it was all over Vasquez came riding up out of nowhere with you propped up on his horse and shouting for the doctor. Crazy bastard almost took a swing at me when I tried to help get you down.” Sam shakes his head. “Saved your life, though.”

Faraday stares. “He what?”

“Every waterbender I’ve ever met who can heal says it can’t be used on fatal injuries. But someone forgot to tell Vasquez that. He was in here for three hours helping the doc patch you up. And even after that, we couldn’t get him to leave. I finally had Red drag him away and practically sit on him until he agreed to get some sleep in a proper bed.”

Faraday honestly isn’t sure where to even begin processing all that Sam’s just said - Vasquez saved his life? The same Vasquez who said the only good firebender was a dead firebender? - so he asks the easier question of, “What about the others? They all make it?”

Sam nods, and Faraday feels like a weight’s been lifted off his chest. “Horne’s got a few new holes in him. And Billy and Goody are gonna be held together with stitches and prayers for a while. But everyone made it out.”

“Bogue?”

“Dead and gone. Would have taken me with him, too, if our Mrs. Cullen hadn’t intervened.”

“So we won?”

Sam smiles. “We did. Mostly thanks to you, you damn lunatic. When you said you’d always wanted to blow something up, we didn’t think you were including yourself.”

Faraday laughs, even though it comes out as more of a wheeze. “Well, I do love to be dramatic.” He can feel his energy draining away again and struggles to keep his eyes open.

“Sleep, Faraday,” Sam says. “You need that beauty rest, after all.”

He’s pretty sure he’s just been insulted, but he’s too tired to care, so he simply obeys.

* * *

The fourth time - at least he thinks it’s the fourth, it’s getting hard to keep count - he wakes up, it’s the sound of Sam and Vasquez speaking in hushed tones next to him. Not hushed enough, though, and he petulantly mutters, “Damn it, an injured man can’t even sleep around here with all that noise.”

He hears them both chuckle, and then Vasquez’s voice, sounding much closer than it was a few seconds ago. “You’ve slept more than enough, _güero_. You going to open your eyes for me now?”

Faraday considers it for moment, then figures why not, it’s not like he can sleep with the two of them jabbering on like this anyway. So he does.

The first thing he sees is Vasquez’s face hovering over his, and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t a damn fine sight to wake up to. It’s not the usual grinning face he’s used to, though - there are dark circles under Vasquez’s eyes and worry lines around his mouth, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in a month.

“You look like shit,” is all Faraday can think of to say, and Vasquez grins - although Faraday notices the grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You should take a look in the mirror, then,” Vasquez says. It’s the usual, teasing tone Faraday had gotten used to. Before everything went to hell, anyway.

Faraday suddenly realizes he has absolutely no idea where exactly he and Vasquez stand right now, and he’s not sure if he wants to find out. He supposes he’ll have to, sooner or later, but as long as Sam is here that conversation probably won’t-

“Well, I need to go look in on Billy and Goody,” Sam says, getting to his feet. “I’ll be back to check on our Joshua again a little later.”

Damn you, Sam Chisolm.

As Sam walks out, Faraday contemplates just going back to sleep, but while he’s a lot of things, a coward isn’t one of them. And he really does want to get this overwith.

“So,” he says simply, and it takes a lot of effort not to wince when Vasquez’s gaze snaps back to him. “I do believe I owe you an apology.”

Vasquez stares at him like he’s grown a second head, so he clarifies, “For lying. For not telling you all what I was. I didn’t like doing it but…I still did it.” Faraday looks the other man square in the eye so Vasquez knows he means every word. “I’m sorry.”

The waterbender is still staring at him, and gradually a slight look of confused horror starts to pass over his face. Fuck, maybe Faraday shouldn’t have mentioned it, shouldn’t have reminded Vasquez of what he was, what he did. He can tell Vasquez is about to say something and he braces himself, knowing he probably deserves whatever’s coming.

“You...have done absolutely _nothing_ to apologize for,” Vasquez says slowly, like he can’t believe it’s something he even has to point out. “At all.”

Okay, Faraday’s pretty sure that’s not right. “Did I mention the whole lying thing? Because that wasn’t-”

“I’m the one who needs to apologize.”

Faraday blinks. Vasquez’s eyes are wide and earnest, so he’s pretty sure the other man is serious, but that doesn’t make sense, why would Vasquez need to apologize for anything? “The hell are you taking about? You didn’t do anything-”

“Didn’t I?” A muscle flexes in Vasquez’s jaw, and he suddenly looks sadder than Faraday’s ever seen him. “I made you feel like you were something less than human. I made you afraid to even admit a part of yourself existed. And I even _blamed_ you for it when I found out. You don’t think that deserves an apology?”

“Not...really?” This conversation is not going at all the way Faraday expected it to. “I mean, it’s normal. Feeling that way about people like me.”

“That doesn’t make it _right_ .” Vasquez is visibly upset now, and Faraday is trying to figure out if he should apologize for that too when the waterbender continues, “White men have been treating me as an inferior my entire life, because of where I come from. They take one look at me and just assume I’m less of a man than they are. I’ve always _hated_ it.” Vasquez swallows. “I didn’t realize until recently that I have been just as narrow-minded as them.”

“That’s not the same thing - being Mexican doesn’t make you more likely to be a terrible-”

“Neither does being a firebender. Which is something I should have learned a long, long time ago. Yes, the firebenders I knew in my village may have been terrible, but they were just two men. And yet I let myself believe all of you were like those two. Not even for a moment did I stop to wonder if they were simply bad _men_ instead of bad benders.” Vasquez runs a hand over his face. “And then when I found out you were one…”

Faraday winces, opening his mouth to apologize again, but Vasquez cuts him off. “I was angry, yes. And confused. I had fought by your side, I knew you were a good man, and I didn’t see how you could also be like them.” Vasquez shakes his head. “And I realized that was because you _weren’t_ like them.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t bend.”

“No, because you’re a good man. A man who was so determined not to be the monster everyone believed him to be that he was willing to deny part of who he was. Willing to pretend the gifts he was given didn’t exist, because he was afraid they would only hurt people. If all firebenders truly were monsters, how could such a man exist?”

And that makes Faraday realize he’s never thought of it like that. He’s always concentrated so hard on trying to deny the so-called monstrous side of him that he never took the time to figure out what that action, in and of itself, said about him.

Monsters aren’t ashamed of being monsters.

What does that make him?

Vasquez is talking again. “The day of the fight, I saw you using those gifts to protect, not to destroy, and I finally realized that your element isn’t what makes you a monster or not, it’s how you choose to use it.”

_It doesn’t make you a good or a bad person. What you decide to do with it does._

“That day, I was proud to fight at the side of a firebender. And I was ashamed of how unfair I had been, to you and to all men like you. And all I could think was that I might never get the chance to tell you, ‘I’m sorry.’”

Faraday turns that over in his brain for a moment. “That why you saved my life?” he asks. “Because you felt guilty?”

Vasquez leans forward, close enough for Faraday to feel his breath on his face, and says softly, “ _Güerito,_ I saved your life because letting you die would have been like tearing my own heart from my chest.”

It’s like all the air has been pulled out of the room. Or maybe Faraday’s just forgotten how to breathe, that’s probably more likely. He struggles to think of something, _anything_ , to say, but his mind is blank, so he does the easier thing.

He wraps a hand around the back of Vasquez’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

And fuck if it isn’t everything he had hoped it would be and more.

Vasquez kisses more softly than Faraday would have expected, but he’s not complaining. Vasquez’s hands come up to cup his face and leans into the touch that feels like safety and comfort and _home_.

The kiss is short, almost chaste, but when they pull apart Vasquez doesn’t go far, pressing his forehead to Faraday’s and smiling in a way can only be described as shy. “Does this mean my apology is accepted, _güerito?_ ” The question is tentative, like he expects Faraday to say no.

“‘Course it is, you goddamn Mexican. Now are you gonna shut up and kiss me again or do I need to come over there?”

Vasquez chuckles, which isn’t the response Faraday wanted, before leaning in and bringing their lips together again, which is _exactly_ the response Faraday wanted. He smiles against Vasquez’s mouth and nips at his bottom lip, enjoying the noise Vasquez makes at the back of his throat, and Faraday decides that he’d be more than happy to spend the rest of his life doing this.

A moment later there’s a slight cough that comes from the direction of the doorway, and the two of them jerk apart, Faraday already trying to form excuses on his tongue. But then he sees Billy, and Goodnight, and Horne, all of them standing there and not one of them looking even the slightest bit surprised.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s polite to knock?” Faraday grumbles, but it’s hard to put any real irritation into it, considering Vasquez hasn’t gone far and has started running a hand through Faraday’s hair like he’s petting a cat.

“We just wanted to see how our favorite firebender was doing, now that he’s awake,” Goodnight says.

Faraday stiffens, and Vasquez shoots a glare at the others in response. Billy swats at Goodnight’s shoulder and says, “He means we’re here to apologize.”

“That seems to be an ongoing trend with you people,” Faraday says. “I hope you don’t expect me to kiss you, too.”

“They’d better not,” Vasquez mutters in his ear, and he grins. Billy looks vaguely nauseated, but Goodnight and Horne just laugh.

“I believe we’d all rather do without that particular gesture of good will,” Goodnight says. “No offense meant, Faraday.”

“None taken.”

“But we do want to say we’re sorry,” says Horne. “We judged something we had no right to judge. And we respect you as much as we ever did, son.”

“We consider it an honor to have fought alongside a firebender such as yourself,” Goodnight adds, Billy nodding along with him. “We only hope you can forgive us for being so short-sighted.”

“We’re sorry,” is all Billy says, but the sentiment is the same.

And it’s a little surreal, having these men in front of him, asking his forgiveness for something he hadn’t even held against them, knowing they accept him for what he is, the part of himself he thought was so unacceptable. Faraday’s tempted to brush them off, because how can he begrudge them something he himself thought was true until today?

“Of course I forgive you. Now stop staring at me like I’m about to order your executions or something, you’re giving me the creeps.”

It’s stupid, but in a way, Faraday feels like he’s forgiven more than just them.

He feels like he’s forgiven himself.

The others relax, so he does too, and then he remembers he did just get blown up a few days ago and stifles a yawn.

Vasquez snaps into action immediately. “All right, you apologized, now he needs sleep,” he orders, making a shooing gesture with his hand. “And knock next time.”

“Trust me, we will,” Billy quips as they all file out. “Nobody wants to see that again.”

Faraday smirks as the door closes behind them, leaning his head against Vasquez’s shoulder. “You gonna mother hen me all throughout my recovery then?”

“Possibly.” Vasquez turns to kiss his forehead. “You have any strong objections to that, _güerito?_ ”

“Can’t say I do.”

Faraday fights back another yawn, and Vasquez clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Now go to sleep, you still need it.”

“Been sleeping for four days, dammit.”

“Yes, after you almost died.” Vasquez’s face softens, and he brushes his thumb across Faraday’s jaw and pleads, “Please?”

Damn him, Faraday can’t really say no to that. But he can make a demand or two of his own. “On one condition,” he says.

“Name it.”

Faraday simply grins and shifts over on the mattress, patting the space next to him. “From what I here, you could use some rest yourself.”

The look Vasquez gives him is so full of fondness that it makes Faraday’s chest twinge. “I think that’s an acceptable compromise,” the waterbender says, and he promptly slides onto the bed beside him, slinging an arm around Faraday’s waist. Faraday automatically curls into him, resting his head on Vasquez’s chest and giving what is absolutely not a contented sigh.

Vasquez’s hand moves back to his hair, and Faraday feels himself start to drift off, but before he does he can’t resist being a smartass just once more. “I still killed more of them than you did, y’know.”

He hears Vasquez chuckle. “Well, maybe once you’re feeling better we can try to tie it up, can’t we?”

“Couldn’t we do that right now?”

“No. Now sleep, _güerito._ ”

Faraday does. And for the first time in his life, he does it with the knowledge that he’s surrounded by people who care about him - who love him. All of him.

He’s never slept better.

**Author's Note:**

> If any of the Spanish is off, I apologize - I really did try my best, I even spent a good forty-five minutes watching dubbed episodes of A:TLA, but languages are not my thing.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Technopaths and Wires](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12196092) by [vamprav](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamprav/pseuds/vamprav)




End file.
